Page 37 of The Wand of Lore
“It’s gone, and now you’re free too,” she whispered, then straddled him, pushed him onto his back, and showered his chest with kisses.
“I missed you,” said Vaylor.
“Me too.” But she didn’t stop kissing him as she spoke, and she didn’t stop kissing him as she opened his belt, and she didn’t stop kissing him as she climbed onto him and rocked herself, slowly, circularly, rhythmically. He responded,holding her hips as their bodies undulated together. They stared into each other’s eyes as they rocked in time, the cool breeze juxtaposed against the warmth of their connected bodies. Gwenneth leaned in so that her breasts were just brushing the skin of Vaylor’s smooth chest. She rocked until pleasure filled them both, then lay softly against him as every infinitesimal sign of her orgasm rippled through her body. They rested in each other’s arms, covered by Vaylor’s cape.
As the day wore on, the child witch complained of hunger, and the others heard their own stomachs grumble as well. Some of the women foraged for food, exalting in the renewed access to their power as they swished their wands and watched with satisfied smiles as berries grew where before there had been none. For years, their powers had been contorted into something ugly and unfamiliar as they wasted away in the dark basement at the whim of King Egar. Other witches came together and spent the afternoon stacking logs and mixing mud with their wands so that when evening came, they had a roof under which they could huddle if they so chose. Some of the witches rested on the bare floor of the shelter, but many were reluctant to abandon the last of the day’s sunshine, and most stayed outside as the sun began to set.
When dinner was ready, the witches gathered together around the fire, quiet and weary from the exertion of casting spells, but content to have done so freely. The movement had been satisfying, and though they were exhausted, they were happy. Gwenneth and Vaylor sat next to each other as they feasted in silence.
Suddenly the silence was broken as the air sizzled with magic, and Nayla appeared in the distance. Gwenneth was standing and crying as her sister ran toward her, tears streaming, her dark hair flying in the breeze.
“Nayla?” Gwenneth gasped, holding her arms outstretched.
“Gwenneth!”
“How are you here? How did you know where to find us?”
“I cast a spell to find you because it had been so long, and the spell opened up a doorway that I walked through to this place. Wherever you are, I will be with you.”
“How did you know the spell? How were you able to summon the power?”
“I’ve been practicing in your absence! I’m getting better.”
Their embrace lasted forever, until Gwenneth released her and closed her eyes. Despite her captor’s promises, she felt the Devil’s Plague lurking in the depths of Nayla’s body, greatly diminished but certainly not gone. They had never healed her all the way. Gwenneth waved her mother’s wand, and the illness disappeared. The weight of exhaustion from a day of casting hit her, and she let Nayla help her back to the fire.
When the women’s bellies were warm and full, they convened a council to discuss their future. Though it was unspoken, Vaylor understood that he was not meant to participate in the council; he rose slowly from the fire, and, using a cane fashioned from a thick stick, hobbled to the meadow with the child, Maive, where she could begin relearning childhood.
“We can’t stay here forever,” said Miriam, who was newly the eldest witch, with the Mother gone from their company.
“We can’t leave. They’ll find us and return us to the castle,” said October.
“I won’t go back!” cried Shorey. “I’ll die first!”
“Why not stay here?” asked Gwenneth.
“Easy for you to say. You have your sister andhim,” said Hessa.
“That’s true; I miss my mother,” said Lally. “She must think I’m dead.”
“Nayla made it, and so can the others,” said Gwenneth.
“We could make a home here. We have enough magic to live here forever, hidden from the eyes of the crown,” said Aledina.
“But what of the other witches? They will be captured in our stead and treated twice as poorly. The king will be more desperate for witches now than ever before, and with the Devil’s Plague silently spreading beyond your home, villagers will be too glad to be rid of their magical daughters,” said Miriam.
The women nodded and pondered this.
“We can’t leave them behind,” said October, finally breaking the silence.
“It is the crown’s fault. They are hoarding wealth and driving our families to poverty and desperation,” offered October.
“We should fight back against the crown. I will gladly kill King Egar myself when I get the chance,” said Sanlie to murmurs of agreement.
“I just want peace,” said Aletha. “Enough fighting. Enough risk. Let us make our home here amongst the wildflowers and live our lives that we’ve been denied for too long.”
“You would condemn our sisters to death?” demanded October.
“I have never been in love. I have never had children, and I don’t remember what it’s like to sleep in my own bed,” said Rose. “I choose life.”
